The Thirteenth Hunger Games
by lavendergooms13
Summary: A story telling the events in the 13th Hunger Games. Friendships are formed, but how long will they last? Told from the perspectives of five young men. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!
1. Chapter 1

Mercer sat on his front steps, face in his hands. Despite the usual hustle and bustle of District 3, the reaping created an illusion of weight, brought on by sorrow and worries. Mercer was 18, so lucky for him, his last reaping. His mother and father had gone to his older brother's house (if you could call it that) to pick up him and his wife. From there they would head to the square for the reaping. Mercer chose to stay at home, since this may be his last chance to be here.

_It's my last reaping, _he thought. _If I can just make it through one more reaping, I'll be safe and I can go work as an engineer._

This seemed almost too good to be true. Mercer was fortunate enough to never have to scavenge for extra food. He hated the idea of taking food from the Capitol. But his father was one of the top engineers in the district, so they always were able to get a little extra food.

The bell from the town square rang, signaling that it was time to head to the square for the reaping. Taking a deep breath, Mercer stood up and trudged to the square. He was one of the last to arrive. The children had all been assembled in front of the Justice Building. Lights and cameras were scattered about, filming nothing but worried parents and scared children. Mercer took his spot just as the ceremony began.

The mayor gave his usual speech. He sounded robotic. There was nothing in his voice. No life. At the conclusion of mayor's speech, a tall and skinny woman stepped forward. She wore a tight blue jacket and a ridiculously frilly blue skirt. Her hair was tied back in a tight bun, which was a sickly color of green.

"Hellooo, everybody!" she screeched.

Her voice was very high pitched. This was Carrie Melont. She had been the District 3 escort since the first Hunger Games. This was her thirteenth attempt at choosing a victor.

Like the mayor, she gave her usual speech, but in a much more upbeat and excited tone.

_How in the world is she excited about this?_ Mercer thought._I guess it's easy when you have never experienced a reaping from this point of view._

"Alright! Here we go! Ladies will be the first pick!" Carrie squealed.

She scurried over to the large glass bowl to her left and reached into the ocean of paper. After selecting one, she ventured back to the microphone and ripped open the slip.

"Angelia Rose!"

Mercer had no idea who this girl was. _She must be young._

A small girl slowly walked to the stage, tripping over her own feet several times. Mercer knew, this had to be her first reaping. Tears stained her face on the screens around the square. Mercer scanned the area and saw a woman, her body unconscious in a man's arms. Most likely Angelia's parents.

"Alright, now for the boys!" Carrie announced, heading towards the bowl to her right.

She took her time picking this one. Maybe she felt guilty for picking someone so young. Tearing open the piece of paper, she leaned into the microphone.

"Mercer Richars!"

A shiver shot down Mercer's spine. This couldn't be right. This was his last year. This just couldn't be possible.

"Mercer, please came to stage!" Carrie said, her hand over her eyes and she looked through the crowd.

Snapping back to reality, Mercer stepped forward. Like Angelia, his steps were his enemy. He nearly fell on the stairs to the stage. He took his spot on the stage, and stared straight ahead. He saw his parents with his brother and his wife. Tears welled up in his mothers eyes.

"Ladies and gentleman! Your tributes of District 3 for the 13th Hunger Games!"


	2. Chapter 2

"It's your last year, huh, Stone?"

"Yeah, I guess it is," Stone replied.

Stone was 18 now, and he hadn't been picked for the Hunger Games yet. So far, the odds had been in his favor. Stone was of average height, but very muscular. He was known for his remarkable strength throughout District 4. He had been helping out his father on their boat since he could practically walk. Aside from being muscular, Stone was very hairy. He had hair dark brown hair that fell just above his shoulders, and a short beard. He and his brother looked a lot alike. His brother, Bret, was walking with him to the square to take their places for the reaping.

"Would you volunteer for me if I got picked?" Brent asked, looking at his feet.

Stone grinned, "Of course I would little brother!"

"I'd do it for you too, y'know," Brent added.

"Like I'd let you," Stone laughed, giving his brother a shove.

They were filed into their places as soon as they arrived at the town square. Stone and his brother were separated into their appropriate age groups. Looking around, Stone couldn't see his parents. He assumed they were just a bit late and were mixed in with the back of the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen!"

This booming voice made Stone jump a little. On stage stood a plump man in a ridiculous plaid green suit. He had a bright yellow mustache, and was attempting to compensate for his lack hair with a terrible comb-over.

"I am Huxton Stinkle! This is my first year as District 4's escort, and I am honored to be here!" He said with a beaming smile.

Stone couldn't help but chuckle. This man was ridiculous.

"Let's get to it shall we? I think I'll start with the gentlemen!"

Huxton Stinkle waddled over to a glass bowl at his right. He reached his large and chubby hand into the dish, and swirled it around for a few seconds. He swiftly lifted his hand out of the bowl, and skipped back to the microphone. Gently, he tore open the slip.

Licking his lips, he boomed, "Brent Slades!"

Before anyone could even grasp the name, Stone had stepped out of line.

"I volunteer!" He yelled, throwing his hand in the air and making his way towards the stage.

"Oh, w-w-well," Huxton stuttered, "And what is your name?"

"Stone Slades," Stone replied, taking his place on stage.

"Ah, a sibling! Good show!"

Huxton did not give this concept much thought, and had headed towards the adjacent bowl containing the girls names. He returned at a quicker pace than before, the slip already open.

"Sheila Collins!"

_Are you serious! _Stone thought. Blood rushed to his face and his heart dropped.

Sheila took the stage and looked at Stone. She shrugged and looked out to the crowd.

"No volunteers? Good!" Huxton giggled. "Your District 4 tributes for the 13th Hunger Games!"


	3. Chapter 3

"Bruce, sweetie, time to get up. The reaping is in half an hour."

Bruce groaned and rolled out of bed.

_Nobody cares about District 6, _he thought.

His mother had stepped out of the room and he could hear her cooking in the kitchen. Only on reaping day did she make a bit extra food. Every year could be there last meal together. Thankfully, this would be their last year of worry. Bruce was 18 now, and it was his last chance to be reaped for the Hunger Games.

Bruce proceeded out of his room, smacking his head on the door frame.

"Ow! Damn it..." Bruce hissed.

Bruce was just under six and a half feet tall. He was skinny and lanky. He rubbed his sore head and scratched at his short brown hair.

"Could you grab the plates, sweetie?" his mother asked.

"Yeah," Bruce answered. He reached into the kitchen cupboard and pulled out two plates. The only two that they had. Both were faded and chipped all over. Bruce placed them on the table, and sat down.

His mother came over and joined him just a few minutes later. She had a small pan with a few pieces of chicken in it. She had been saving up for this meal for weeks.

"Thanks, Mom," Bruce smiled. "It looks great."

She grinned, "Thank you, baby."

She pulled from her pocket a small loaf of bread and tore it in half. Bruce laughed as she handed him his piece.

"Saved a little extra just for this," she said as she nibbled at her bread.

They ate the rest of their meal in silence. Neither of them really wanted to talk about the reaping. There was a knock at the door.

"That'd be you brothers. Time to go."

Bruce and his mother headed outside. Bruce tucked in his shirt as he stepped outside. His older brothers, Carter and Tom, stood their waiting for them. They had just finished their shift at the auto shop. That's where Bruce would be headed were he not picked to participate in the Hunger Games.

"You alright, Bruce?" Carter asked.

Bruce nodded and scratched his chin.

"If you get picked, you better kick some ass," Tom snorted.

Bruce could hear his mother slap Tom on the arm.

"I'm just saying," Tom whispered.

The walk to the square was awkward and silent. It was now time to part ways.

Bruce hugged his brothers then turned to his mother.

"I love you, sweetie," she choked out, clearly fighting back tears.

"I love you too, Mom," Bruce replied taking his mother into his arms.

"Let's go," a Peacekeeper shouted, nudging Bruce.

Reluctantly letting go, Bruce turned and joined the others, waiting to be reaped.

The mayor gave a very quick speech, and started crying. He was very emotionally unstable. He would cry one second, then be happy go lucky the next. Then May June took the stage. The skinny, outrageous old woman stepped up to the microphone, doing some sort of an excited dance. The skin on her face was tightly pulled back to hide or old age. She wore some sort of weird brown dress. Bruce couldn't even begin to think of how to describe it.

"Hello my beautiful District 6!" she cawed.

Her voice was awful. She sounded like a dieing parrot.

"I am so honored to be here! If it weren't for you, I would have to walk here! Wouldn't that just be awful!" She laughed.

Since District 6 built transportation, they had helped build the super fast trains that brought May June here.

_If you walked, you'd probably die, _Bruce considered.

"Now, let's get our reaping on, shall we?"

May took her time getting to the first glass bowl that contained the girls names. She was trying to show off her ridiculous dance moves. Probably for her friends who would later watch this at home. She picked the slip of paper, and danced her way back to the center of the stage.

"And our female tribute is..."

The crowd fell silent.

"Asha Cox!"

Bruce quickly spotted the girl due to his height. She looked to be about 16. Bruce had never seen her before though. She had long black hair, that hung in front of her eyes. She took the stage and just stood their. She had no emotion.

"Well then, onto the boys!"

Just as ridiculous as before, May danced and picked a slip of paper.

"Bruce Simmons!"

"Damn it..." Bruce said under his breath.

His hands formed into fists as he stepped out of line. He trudged up the stairs to the stage.

May June put her arms around the two tributes, her smile big and bright.

"Asha Cox and Bruce Simmons! District 6 tributes for the 13th Hunger Games!"


	4. Chapter 4

The ax swung down, splitting the piece of wood right down the middle. The two pieces fell to their respective sides, and hit the soft ground, splattered with wood-chips. It was a crisp day in District 7. Jim had been up since dawn splitting firewood for his family, unable to sleep. The reaping was going to take place in just a short while.

"Jim, breakfast is ready!" came a voice.

Jim's younger sister stood in the doorway.

"Yeah, okay," Jim yelled back.

Jim removed his headband (a bandana folded into an oval shape), and wiped the sweat from his brow. Jim was 18 years old, lean, and was of average height. His hair was brown, and stuck up in every direction.

He stepped inside and took his place at the small dining room table. Jim had a large family. There was his mother and father, his three older sisters, his younger sister, younger brother, and himself. It was very difficult to provide enough food for everyone. Jim had taken tessera multiple times each year, and had lost count of how many times his name was up for grabs as a tribute. His younger sister, Eliza, had taken tessera four times, and the youngest, John, had only taken it once. Jim and Eliza made sure that John had to take tessera as little as possible. He was only 14. Eliza was 16. The oldest three, Ray, Samantha, and Beth, were well in their twenties, and were lucky enough to have the food they needed when they were younger.

"Now you kids listen to me," their father, Eric, grunted, "No matter what happens today, we will get through it."

"I love you all," his mother, Tracy, added.

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence. When they were finished, they put on their best clothes, and headed to the town square. Quickly, Jim, Eliza, and John were placed in their respective age groups. The mayor had fallen ill, so his speech was given by Randolf Roles, the District 7 escort. Randolf was just shy of six feet tall. He had very long, red hair that was tied back in multiple ponytails. His suit was a shade of pink, and he had tattoos all over his face. After he had given both the mayor's speech and his own, he was ready to pick this years tributes.

"Alright, my dears! Let's get this show going!" Randolf cheered.

He waltzed over to the girls bowl, and threw his hand into the white abyss. He took his time picking a slip, but when he did, he was immediately in front of the microphone.

"Alright! Our female tribute this year is... Marie Vin!"

Jim knew who this was. She was the same age as him. She had long sandy hair and beautiful brown eyes. She took the stage, hiding her fear very well.

"Oh, congratulations my dear!" Randolf squealed.

He bounced over to the boys bowl now. He took just as much time picking the name, and just as much time getting back to the microphone.

"Alright, alright! Jim Loks!"

Jim's eyes bulged open. He swiftly removed his headband and shoved it into his pocket. He stepped forward and onto the stage, standing next to Randolf. He heard his family sobbing.

"Alright! Congratulations Jim and Marie! Our tributes for this years 13th Hunger Games!"


	5. Chapter 5

Trent sat with younger brother and sister, savoring every minute they had together. They sat on a bench across the street from the Justice Building.

"Jane, Paul," Trent said in a hushed tone, "I love you guys. And if I could, I'd volunteer for both of you in a heartbeat."

"We know," Paul replied, "Thanks Trent."

"If you don't picked this year Trent, you're safe," Jane began. "I'll still have two years, and Paul will have four."

Trent sighed, "I know, but everything will be alright."

Trent was 18, granting him his last year as a possible tribute for the Hunger Games. He had his blonde hair buzzed, and some scruffy hair on his face. He was short, but fairly strong and very intelligent.

The last few people had filed into the town square, so Trent, Jane, and Paul proceeded to check in and take their places. Trent thought about his future as he stood their, waiting. He thought of the future he had ahead of him, should he survive another reaping. He lived in District 8, and aspired to be a teacher. He wanted to be there to help and educate as many children as he could. He hated the feeling of fear during these reapings, and he wanted to do everything in his power to ease the worries of as many people as he could.

Trent was snapped back to reality by a sharp squeak of a voice. His head turned to the stage to see the District 8 escort, Olivia Lallins. She was young, and thin. Her skin was white and tattooed with golden designs.

"Hello! Here we go!" Olivia screeched.

She wasted no time at all. She practically ran over to the first bowl, not even specifying the gender associated with it.

"Our first tribute is... Jane Myers!"

Trent nearly vomited on the spot. This could not be happening. There was just no way. He watched as his younger sister took the stage, her eyes red, but no tears showing. Olivia had already picked the next tribute as Jane reached the stage.

"Tom Balton!"

"I volunteer!" Trent screamed.

A smile burst onto Olivia's face, and Jane's jaw dropped.

Trent marched forward and took his place on stage. He was not letting his sister go into the arena alone. He would do whatever he could to keep alive. There was nothing that would stop him. Even if that meant sacrificing himself, he'd do it.

"Well, here are you tributes, District 8! For the 13th Hunger Games!" Olivia giggled.


	6. Chapter 6

"Why can't I see my family?" Mercer shouted. His face was red and the vein on his forehead pulsed.

The train screeched as it began to move along the tracks.

"Calm down," Carrie Melont said in a calm tone. It was obvious that she was trying very hard not to yell. "The president ordered it to be this way."

"And why did he decide that?" Mercer huffed.

"I don't know! I am merely an escort! Why would the president tell me?" Carrie said, a strange sadness in her voice. "Now, if you two will follow me, I'll take you to the food cart."

Angelia rose from her seat and followed Carrie through the door. Mercer sighed heavily, and followed as well. He mood did not change, but he was quite happy to see all of the food before him. There were biscuits, noodles, meats, cheeses, cakes, and so many other things Mercer could not even put a name to. He looked over at Angelia, her eyes bulging and her jaw slack.

"Help yourselves!" Carrie said in a sing-song voice. "Everything is yours to take! I am going to freshen up, and then I'll find your mentor!"

She scooted out of the cart, and the room remained silent. Neither Mercer or Angelia moved for quite some time. Finally, Mercer spoke up.

"Ladies first," he said, gesturing at the gallery of food.

"Thanks," Angelia returned quietly.

She shuffled forward, taking a plate, and beginning her assault on the buffet. Mercer joined her, and they sat at the nearby dining table.

"How old are you?" Mercer asked after a couple of minutes.

"Twelve," Angelia answered, taking a bite of a biscuit.

Mercer stomachs became a knot. Twelve. This girl had barely experienced life. Mercer felt obligated to protect her, to help her win. But he realized that he was in the same scenario. Although older, his life was on the line. He didn't quite know how to approach this, but he would not lay this thought to rest.

"How old are you?" Angelia asked, looking at Mercer.

"I'm eighteen," Mercer replied, avoiding her gaze.

"You have a pretty good chance of winning then," Angelia said in a whisper.

"Just as good as anyone else," Mercer retorted.

"Not me. I'm only twelve. Plus I'm tiny and I'm not strong."  
Mercer smiled, "There has to something you're good at?"

Angelia thought about this for a moment. She began tearing apart her biscuit and tossing it onto her plate.

"No."

Mercer now looked at her. He saw her eyes swell up with tears. She sniffed and wiped her nose.

"Hey. Hey!"

Angelia looked up, trying to hide her sadness.

"We'll figure something out for you in training, okay?" Mercer said in as positive of a tone as he could.

"Yeah," Angelia said in nothing more than a whisper.

The door in which Carrie had left slid open. She walked into the cart, followed by a woman. She was average height, and of average build. She couldn't be more than four or five years older than Mercer. She had blonde hair that fell just below her ears. She grabbed a plate and began to load it with food.

"Kyla Murphy?" Mercer questioned.

"You guessed it," the woman responded.

"So you're our mentor?" Mercer asked her.

Kyla slammed her plate on the table.

"Why else would I be here?" she hollered. "If it were up to me, I'd be at home, doing nothing!"

"Just asking, jeez," Mercer said under his breath. He began to pick at his food again when a sharp pain shot through the back of his head.

Kyla had smacked him in the back of the head.

"What was that for?" Mercer shouted, rubbing the stinging spot on his head.

"I don't like you," Kyla hissed, digging into a pile of meat she had on her plate.

"So far I'm not a fan of yours either," Mercer retaliated.

Kyla chuckled, swallowing the bite of meat.

"What're your names?"

"Mercer."

"And you?" Kyla said, jabbing her fork at Angelia.

"I'm Angelia..."

"Psh! So frail!"

"She's twelve! Cut her some slack," Mercer said defensively.

"Cut her some slack?" Kyla yelled. "Tell that to the people that'll be trying to kill her in a few weeks! She'll be the first to go! Look at her! Small, skinny, fragile!"

Angelia had tears streaming down her face. She stood up and ran from the table.

"Oh dear," Carrie sighed, rushing after Angelia.

Kyla acted like nothing happened and turned back to her meal.

Mercer glared at Kyla. He stood and flipped her plate of food. Meat scattered everywhere, and the plate clattered on the floor. Mercer turned and stomped away. He was no more than three steps away when he felt a tight grip around his neck. He was jolted backwards, and found himself face first in a bowl of chocolate pudding. His head was lifted from the bowl, the grip still on his neck. Kyla had leaned down to eye level, fury in her eyes.

"You pull a stunt like that again, your ass won't make it to the games."

Kyla released Mercer, and stomped away, preparing another plate of assorted meats. Mercer wiped the pudding from his face, and stormed off to his room for the night.


	7. Chapter 7

Stone threw the lamp that rested on his bedside table across the room. He had been on the train for only a few minutes, but knew his rage could keep him fueled for the entire train ride. He stomped over to the closet, ripping clothes from their hangers and tearing them. There was a knock at his door. Stone turned and Sheila stood in the doorway.

"Hey," she said quietly.

"Hey," Stone huffed, out of breath.

"Are you okay?" she asked sarcastically, examining the chaos of Stone's room.

"Not really," Stone replied, sitting on the foot of his bed.

"I know you're upset. I didn't get to say goodbye to my parents either."

"Yeah, but I didn't get to say goodbye to Brent."

Stone's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white.

"He knows you love him, and so do your parents," Sheila said comfortingly. She reached her hands over and took his.

"I volunteered for him. I didn't get to say goodbye and explain why I did it," he responded.

"Why did you do it?"

"He's my brother. It's as simple as that," Stone grunted. "And I love my parents with all of my heart. I want them to have my brother. He's smart and good get them a lot of goods things."

"Stone..." Sheila cried.

"It's okay, babe," Stone cooed, wrapping his arms around her. "I love you."

"I love you," she echoed.

"That's cute!"

Stone and Sheila jumped. A tall man stood in the doorway, his arms crossed and a grin on his face.

"So they sent me a couple this year, eh?"

"Huh?" Stone said, his face contorted into confusion.

"Oh, right! I'm Harlen, your mentor," the man laughed.

He was tall and tan skinned. He had a short mo-hawk and a thick beard. His shirt had no sleeves, exposing his well toned arms.

"What're your names?" he asked.

"I'm Stone, and this is Sheila," Stone replied.

"Pleasure to meet you two," Harlen smiled. "Would you join me in the lobby cart?"

He turned and walked out of the room. Stone and Sheila looked at each other, both exchanging confused looks. They rose from the bed and followed after Harlen. They arrived to the lobby cart, where Harlen was seated in a large leather chair.

"Please," Harlen gestured at the two open chairs in front of him.

Stone and Sheila each took a seat, and stared at Harlen.

"So, tell me about yourselves?" Harlen smirked.

No response.

"Okay..." Harlen sighed.

"I'm going to keep her safe," Stone said.

"Uh-huh..." Harlen scratched at his beard. "How?"

"By doing whatever I can to keep her alive."

"How?"

"What do you mean?" Stone asked, irritated.

"I mean, what are your skills?" Harlen grunted.

"He's strong," Sheila chimed in. "Resourceful, and he has a good understanding of nature."

"I see," Harlen leaned forward, folding his hands.

"I'm light, agile, and also resourceful," Sheila added.

"So you two are going to be trying to keep one another alive?"

"Exactly," Sheila said sternly, folding her arms.

"Alright. I can tell that there's no changing your minds," Harlen stood up now, pacing back and forth. "I can work with that. You need to keep apart in training though. Make the other tributes think you aren't close. But once you're in the arena, get together."

"Are you sure?" Stone questioned.

"I won this once, didn't I?" Harlen laughed. "We'll talk more about this later. Go wash up for dinner."


	8. Chapter 8

Bruce sat at the table quietly, picking at his full plate of food. Asha had not spoken a single word. Bruce had no idea what her voice sounded like. This did not please May June.

"So, Asha," May began, "What do you like to do in your free time?"

Asha stared up at May June, her gaze hollow. May was clearly uncomfortable, because she flinched and looked down at her food.

"Alright, missy, that arrogant attitude will get you killed in the arena!"

Asha and Bruce looked up at their mentor, Jude Young. He was a much older man. He had very thin hair, and not much of it left. He was skinny and his skin sagged and wrinkled with age.

"Bruce here has at least said a couple things, but you just sit their all sad and depressed! I ain't gonna tolerate that!"

Asha now stared at her mentor, the same hollow gaze in her eyes.

"Bruce, will you come with me for a moment?" Jude said as he stood and stormed out of the room.

"Uh... be right back," Bruce moaned. He stood up and scurried out of the room after Jude.

Jude stood in front of a window, looking outside as the scenery flew by. His face was set with anger.

"What's up?" Bruce asked, standing next to Jude.

"You're a strong looking young man. You've got a good shot of being a Career. That's rare for District 5," Jude had anger ringing through his voice.

It was true though. Bruce was pretty strong. Growing up with two older brothers didn't come easy. Granted they were both stronger than him, but they toughened him up and helped him get stronger. Bruce used to be picked on quite a bit when he was younger, but his brothers always had his back. They showed him how to defend himself.

"Is that all?" Bruce asked.

"No. I just wanted to say that."

Bruce liked that. He was glad that his mentor had so much confidence in him. He may stand a chance at winning this year. However, the reapings hadn't been broadcast yet, so he had no idea what he was up against.

"I wanted to talk to you away from that..." Jude searched for the right word. "Bitch."

"Damn, easy there," Bruce said. "That's not cool."

"I don't give a damn. That attitude will get her killed straight away. She needs to get it together and listen to what I have to say."

"She obviously doesn't care. She doesn't want to be here."

Jude whipped his head at Bruce.

"Nobody wants to be here kid. We don't get the choice to stay home. If you're picked, you're going. Unless you're lucky enough to get a volunteer. But anyway, the reason I asked you to out here was because you need to work without her."

Bruce looked at Jude, unsure of his meaning.

"When you get in that arena, leave her. Let her fend for herself. Kill her yourself. I don't care. Just leave her."

Bruce felt sick. This man wanted him to leave his fellow District 5 tribute to fend for herself. He couldn't do that. As far as he was concerned, they were a team until they had no choice but to turn on one another.

"It pains me to say that," Jude sighed.

"Why?" Bruce questioned.

"She's my granddaughter."


	9. Chapter 9

"Oh, isn't this train just fantastic!" Randolf giggled.

Jim stared at him, trying very hard not to laugh. Marie had taken no notice, her eyes still swollen from crying. They had been on the train for a few hours and there was no sign of their mentor. She was definitely on the train, but nobody knew where.

"Did you two enjoy dinner?" Randolf asked, still giddy.

"Yeah, it was great," Jim smiled. "I'm gonna be huge when we get to the Capitol."

Randolf exploded with laughter.

"Oh, my dear boy!"

Jim noticed that Marie had smiled a little.

"What about you, Marie?" Jim asked, turning to her.

"I-it was good," she quietly answered.

"Good," Jim smiled at her.

"So, where is our mentor?" Marie said, a bit more loudly.

"She's sleeping I believe. She was a bit... hungover when she arrived," Randolf responded.

"Oh, a party person," Jim laughed.

Randolf and Marie both shared a sincere laugh.

"I drink because I don't want to remember the reapings."

A woman sat behind the couch Jim and Marie sat on. Her back was leaning against it, and her legs were crossed.

"I only drink the night before the reapings so that I have no recollection of the sadness and fear I see on the faces of children and their loved ones."

Her hair was blonde and fell to her shoulders. She was at most ten years older than Jim and Marie.

"I apologize," Jim said sincerely. "I was only joking."

"I know you were," she said. "I'm Juliet Ronalds."

"I'm Jim," Jim introduced himself.

"And I'm Marie," Marie added.

"Pleasure," Juliet said, standing up and taking a seat next to Randolf. "Hello Randolf."

"Hello, my dear," Randolf said politely.

"You two are good looking. You seem likable. You shouldn't have much of a problem getting sponsors. Just be yourselves and they'll flock to you. As for training, focus on your weakest skills, and save your best skills for your personal review. Okay?" Juliet said quickly.

"Yeah, sure," Marie sighed.

"I'll get more in depth in those regards when those events come up."

Juliet stood up again and turned on the television that was mounted on the wall in front of them.

"Are the reapings going to be on soon?" Jim asked.

"Indeed," Randolf chuckled. "We'll get to see your competition!"

"While we wait," Juliet chimed in, "What can you do? Combat wise?"

"I'm decent with an ax," Marie said. "My mother is a nurse, so I know quite a bit about plants, specifically medicinal herbs."

"Good. That'll come in handy no matter what the arena is. Jim?"

"Well, I'm fast and fairly strong. And like Marie, I'm good with an ax, but tomahawks as well. My Dad had a few from his father and he taught me how to use them."

"Also helpful. So long as you two show your skills with the axes in your personal reviews, they'll be in the cornucopia," Juliet said with a slight smile.

The symbol of the Capitol appeared on the television before them. The Capitol anthem played, and the screen flashed to Caesar Flickerman.

"Looks like the show is about to begin!" Randolf said clapping his hands.


	10. Chapter 10

Trent's gaze was fixated on the television. The reapings were about to be broadcast, and Caesar Flickerman was beginning his opening speech.

"Hello everyone! I hope you're all well!"

"Yeah right," Jane hissed.

"We have quite a spread here for you!" Caesar continued. "I can truly say that I have no idea who will win this year! There are so many choices! But enough about me! Let's meet this years tributes!"

"Oh! I'm so excited!" Olivia giggled.

"She's probably more excited to see herself on TV," Jane whispered to her brother.

District's One and Two both had strong looking tributes, as expected. They always ended up becoming the Careers. Trent made sure to analyze all of his opponents closely, to hopefully find a chink in their armor. Both males were big and strong looking. The boy from one had short black hair, and the boy from two had red hair. Both female tributes had short brown hair.

The girl from District Three was small and very young. She looked to be around twelve years old. As for the boy, he was tall with dark brown hair. He was managing to keep a fairly strong face.

District Four had a volunteer. A young man, who based on his appearance, had to be Trent's age. He had scruffy facial hair, and long brown hair. He was short, but clearly was a powerhouse. The girl came to stage, acting like this was nothing new.

District Five's tributes were both very young. Nothing that seemed to be to worrisome. District Six however had a very tall young man, looking fairly strong. He seemed very casual, trying to keep his cool. The girl however, radiated anger. She had a dark expression on her face, clearly not pleased with the Capitol.

Next, District Seven. An average enough looking pair were picked. The boy was hiding his emotions very well. He had a lean and muscular build. The girl was beautiful, and looked serious.

Trent and Jane's broadcast was nothing special. They both knew how they acted, and couldn't change anything about it at this point.

District Nine had an older girl and younger boy, as did District Ten. District's Eleven and Twelve produced four sixteen year old tributes.

The Capitol emblem flashed across the screen, and turned black. The broadcast was over.

"Well, some of those tributes look tough," their mentor, Skye, said, pushing his sandy hair out of his eyes. "One, two, and four had some strong candidates."

"If I analyze them in training, I can figure this all out no problem," Trent said confidently.

"Don't get cocky," Skye snapped.

"We'll be fine," Jane sighed.


End file.
